[Complete] Eroh has reached his seventeenth spring and has finally become a man. With manhood comes a gift: marriage to the woman he loves. But when a strange new woman from another world enters his life, he is stuck with the decision to honor his...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Every muscle in my body screamed and ached. I was ready to quit ...
I'd never struggled to move like on this day. Not one of my limbs responded. My flesh black from the beatings, proddings, and hackings. I never knew a body could take so much abuse without breaking, though my spirit felt broken ...
"Ouch!" I groaned, feeling the rag dab against my forehead. I had a bruise the size of a cherry. "That hurts ..."
"Quit your whining," Lylef said. "You're to become a man now ... you cannot whine like a hoofling."
I grimaced and folded my arms, sitting at the table ready for my last meal of the day. The wounds made my stomach tighten and twist with every shock of pain. I wasn't even sure if I could eat. Lunch I nearly heaved up the boar I was eating. Gagrit was working me too hard. I thought of my father and the grin he wore. One that was cruel and cold, like when watching two roosters fight.
"I should've never agreed to this ..."
"Why?" Lylef said, dabbing. I closed my eyes and squirmed. "You must be strong. You've already lost some weight, and you're getting better at fighting."
"I don't feel like I'm getting better ..." I twiddled my thumbs. "Nor do I feel like I've lost weight."
"I can see it." Her lips raised and curled. "Your cheeks and chin are smaller. And you're carrying less fat in your belly." She tapped my stomach and I groaned. The bruise was still healing. She dabbed my forehead. I winced and she giggled. "You're going to be alright. Now get some rest. Tomorrow you must show Gagrit how you've improved."
I slept little that night. The pain kept me in a half-awakened stupor. I tried counting boars, but that did little to help. And when I drifted off, my head pounded like drums. But the rhythm was that of spears beating on flesh ... my flesh ... again and again until I was one big black bruise, and nothing else.
I sat up, sweating. My tongue dry. A warm, throbbing sensation in my loins. It hurt to stand. And it hurt to waddle to the door where I pushed the deer-hide curtain aside. I roamed the cottage, grunting with every step. Feeling more boarish by the day.
"Gagrit, be honest, does my boy have a chance?" I heard a low, smug voice ask, "Or is he a lost cause?"
I halted, then took two steps towards the wall, pressing myself against it. I peeked between a crack. On the other side of the deer hide curtain were my father and Gagrit. They sat at the table drinking a frothy drink. Still dusk outside. I wonder what time it is?
Gagrit dwarfed my father. She shook her head. "No. He is too slow ..."
Father raised his eyebrows. "At attacking?"
"At catching on." She chuckled, taking a drink large enough to leave her upper lip white. "There is not enough time to train the boy. He'll fail and it will force Lylef to wed another."
